


he had the world

by nobilaws



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Chan is just sad, Flashbacks?, Friends to Lovers, Funerals, I was in need of something soonchan, M/M, Slight depictions of illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-18 01:17:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16107758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobilaws/pseuds/nobilaws
Summary: Chan thinks. He thinks until he wishes that he could stop thinking.





	he had the world

**Author's Note:**

> With encouragement from Leo I am posting this fic :3 honestly I wrote this when I was supposed to be studying but I guess it’s good practice for English... even though we’re supposed to write in first person there. Please enjoy ~

Chan thinks.

 

He lets his tired, drooping eyelids close and gets swept up in the whirlpool of his thoughts.

 

Chan thinks back to when he first saw the boy, hair bleached white, bounding along to the pounding music in the dance studio. Steps energetic, powerful and intimidating yet the wide smile on his face,  _ the smile _ , practically begged Chan to join in. Being so captivated - no - entranced by this stranger, he couldn’t help but comply, dropping his bag to the floor immediately. Starting to jump in time to the rhythm, Chan quickly found his flow, initiating a dance battle that led to an exchange of numbers and a brand new friendship blossoming like flower buds in spring.

 

There’s noise in the background, someone’s voice is being projected through a crackling speaker but no words are registering in his head. He just,  _ just,  _ can’t care enough to listen, for he’s trying to focus on this boy’s smile.

 

_ The smile. _ A smile that could outshine thousands of stars in the solar system, including the big ol’ sun. A smile that encouraged anyone looking at him to smile along with him as well. A smile that sent in Chan’s way could easily make him melt into a puddle. A smile that because of the boy’s perfectly round and rosy cheeks, made his eyes tilt upwards when he flashed his pearly whites he’d gained after years and years of metal wires stuck to his teeth. A smile that Chan misses.

 

It was thanks to this smile that the boy befriended many others, his energy highly infectious to anyone surrounding. But there were eleven that also stuck through the long haul with him, alongside Chan. They stayed even when the boy paled of colour and drained of his close to never ending excitement. A band of brothers was formed, everyone dependable in dark, treacherous waters. Especially when the boy’s eyes, once filled with luminous sparks became shrouded with pain, Chan turned to them.

 

A tear escapes from Chan’s eye. Bringing his hand up to the corner of his cheekbone to wipe it away, he knocks his glasses slightly askew, catching a whiff of the cologne he had applied that morning. It smelt like what home used to be.

 

He remembers smelling it the day he spent curled up in the boy’s lap, huddled close enough to feel his heartbeat as it reverberated in his chest, almost like it was going to lull Chan to sleep. The smell was much more diluted back then, mixed with sweat and rubbed off during the day. Chan weakly smiled up at the older, eyes crusty and dry. He felt his heart racing in his chest as the boy carded his small, stubby fingers through his hair. Admittedly Chan does not remember what had upset him on that day but he does vividly recall how he knew then that his feelings for the older boy had grown into something else. The boy had used the same cologne for years, at least until the sterile antibacterial scent infiltrated their lives.

 

It took Chan many months to spill his guts, finally mustering up the courage after multitudinous pep talks by Seungkwan. The nervous jitters rang clear in his still unstably pitched voice as his grammar failed him and the words just tumbled out of his mouth incoherently. The older had laughed, apparently tickled by the hilarity of it all and Chan braced himself to be ridiculed but  _ instead _ . Instead of that, the warmth of a hand on his cheek and oh, the sweet sweet taste of the lips that were on his are things that Chan never dared to forget. 

 

The voice drones on and Chan could hear the quiet sniffles of people around him.  _ Sniffles _ . Like there weren’t enough reminders of the bright lights and rows and rows of beds that constrained the amount of movement that could be done on them.

 

Free access to the boy’s chest was all he wanted. Yet Chan was restricted for the last year and a half or more, he’d stopped keeping track of the weeks that kept merging into months of days that dragged on forever. He had wanted to keep exploring the pale and milky expanse of a chest that the boy had. Being the cause of the redness that creeped up his skin as he nibbled at the boy’s ear. To be bare, raw, making tongues meet endlessly before ending up in a heaving tangled and sweaty heap. Marking up and down his skin, leaving deep purple bruises that lasted days. Then bruises, they became a warning sign for illness and sexual tension was exchanged with deep-rooted concern.

 

Chan wants to stop thinking.

 

Memories have him reeling back and delving into the depths of his mind. Places only the boy, the boy who carried the rays of sun wherever he went, the boy his world revolves around, only  _ that boy _ was allowed in there.

 

So Chan halts his train of thought.

 

And his eyes fly open. The first thing his vision focuses on, is the white coffin.

 

_ White.  _ Just strikingly white. White light is the combination of all colours but really. White.  _ White  _ is just completely devoid of colour. White were the walls of the room where Chan continuously lost fragments of hope, of the room where the boy spent his final moments, his final  _ months _ in. They sucked out so much joy that it nearly washed away all the happiness the boy had tried to spread in that dank room. But as persistently stubborn as he was, the boy never let that happen. For even before he took his last breath, he went out in a brilliant flash.

 

Chan doesn’t know how the boy knew. His condition was looking up on that day though maybe, just maybe, he was finally able to let go. He had directed Chan to open his cupboard and pass him a couple of items, voice croaking and unhealthily thin arm quivering as if pointing in a direction set his senses on fire. A  _ smile  _ was upon his lips as he gazed at Chan, who though exhausted and weary still returned it, doing as he was told without complaint. 

 

However, when he pulled open the drawer, instead of being faced with what he was supposed to retrieve, he found a tiny velvet box and a card with a four-word question scribbled, shakily and illegibly on it. Chan had been thrown into shock but before he could even mentally fathom it, there was an eerily long and continuous beep that penetrated the tranquility of the room. Chan whipped his head around and screeched for medical assistance.

 

He got up as quick as lightning and his legs speedily carried him to the landmark in the middle of the aisle. Chan didn’t know what possessed him, the blood roaring in his ears as he threw himself over the pristine coffin, his body beginning to be wrecked with sobs. There were gasps from the congregation as he interrupted the service but he couldn’t give a  _ fuck _ , tears spilling out of his eyes, heart throbbing with an unexplainable ache in his chest. He just,  _ just _ , wanted to feel close to the boy he loved for one last time. They were both wearing their best suits today and it hits Chan, how bloody ironic this is. 

 

With his throat sore from the past days of withheld grief, he whispered.

 

“Yes Soonyoung, I will.”

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I’m sorry for any tears spilled.
> 
> Please yell @ me @ my writing Twitter baksoonie if you wanna talk more about it <3


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